


the benefits of conversation

by ignitesthestars



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: The prospect of a single bed on a mission is enough to force Jyn and Cassian into starting a conversation they've both been avoiding since Scarif.





	

They haven’t spoken about it.

Normally, Jyn doesn’t consider not-talking a problem. Normally, in fact, Jyn considers not-talking a perfectly acceptable _solution._ Opening her mouth has a tendency to get her into trouble, whether she means it to or not.

(To be fair, she usually means it to).

But this - the whatever-it-is between her and Cassian - is not being solved by ignoring it. In fact, Jyn would go so far as to say it’s being made a whole lot _worse_. Their eyes scrape over each other, catching on the rough edges and never quite meeting. Probably, she thinks wryly, because neither of them are sure what they want to see there.

She remembers the elevator. (She remembers every individual second of Scarif like it’s been carved into her skull, but the elevator in particular sticks out). She remembers looking at Cassian with want and loss and the irony of it all, and remembers the same expression on his face.

She had thought she was going to die there on that beach with that man, and had been at peace with it. How is she supposed to put that into words? How is she supposed to broach a conversation to address the fact that she’s pretty sure they both fell in love on a suicide mission that didn’t pan out?

It’s the sort of musing that could go on forever, and probably would have if Cassian hadn’t opened the door to their shitty motel room to reveal a single bed.

He huffs, a sigh that sounds suspiciously like _of course_ in tone, if not words. She narrows her eyes at him as he pushes into the room, snagging one flat pillow from the bed and dropping it on the ground. It’s three in the morning and they’re not due to meet their contact until twelve the next day, so he’s not _wrong_ about the concept of sleep happening right now.

He is wrong about how he’s going to do it though. Jyn steps inside, letting the door hiss shut behind her. She double checks that it’s locked (security measure) before turning back to him, arms crossed over her chest.

“What are you doing?”

He glances over at her, eyebrows raised. “Preparing a place to sleep?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Her first thought is that there’s a hitch in his walk sometimes, when it’s cold or there aren’t any beds available at all.

The second is that it sounds sort of like she’s inviting him to sleep with her, and this is exactly what she means about speaking getting her into trouble.

He straightens, eyebrows raised. “Really.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. This is your first mission back, you need to be on top form.”

“It’s your first mission for the Alliance. First official mission.” He tugs one of the blankets off the bed. “Besides. You need more sleep than I do.”

“I do _not_. I’m sorry, which one of us fell several stories to their near death?”

“The one who--” But he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Have you always been this impossible?”

“Yes. The one who what?”

“It’s unimportant.”

“Clearly not, if you thought it was going to trump my pointing out that you shattered your tibia.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, and she can’t help the flicker of a grin at having gotten under his skin. Of course, it’s wiped away at his next words, because that’s how Jyn Erso’s life tends to go.

“I don’t have nightmares about it.”

 _How do you know?_ She clamps her teeth on the words before they blurt out, because of course he knows. They’ve fallen asleep on each other half a dozen times and more since Scarif, in between moments when they really should have been having that Discussion. Dim memories of an arm around her waist, a hand stroking her forehead, swim sluggishly to the forefront of her mind.

She’s not sure if she wants to shove them down again or not.

“That’s a lie,” she murmurs, and it’s his turn to look uncertain, taken aback. She takes no satisfaction in it, because those memories are accompanied with the feeling of him twitching, his leg jogging in his sleep. Maybe he doesn’t wake up, but that doesn’t mean he’s not running from something in his sleep.

It occurs to Jyn that a mattress over the floor is probably not going to help either of them that much.

“There’s room--”

“We could both--”

And their eyes finally catch hold of each other across a cramped, barren motel room, and all the things Jyn hasn’t said over the past few months crowd up in her throat, threatening to choke her.

Cassian steps into her. He hesitates for a bare second, before determining she’s not going to push her away, settling his hands at her waist. “This is poor timing,” he points out.

“Isn’t it always?” 

Jyn thinks she could reach for him, arms behind his neck, drag his mouth to hers. She tips forward instead, resting her forehead against his chest. His heart thumps steadily, a comforting beat that reverberates through her skull.

“Better than last time,” she allows, feels his chuckle vibrate in his chest.

“I was,” he says, “as glad to be with you then as I am to be with you now.”

The urge to make a crack about he can’t be very happy about this right now is there, but for once - for once, she doesn’t want to bury her own feelings about this. She swallows instead, nodding.

“It - the feeling’s mutual.” It’s sort of like forcing a large rock out of her gullet, but she manages it, and feels lighter for it. “And when it’s not three in the morning before our respective first missions, we should probably have a conversation about that.”

One hand leaves her waist, tips her chin up. He looks at her like - like she’s something he’s never beheld before. Like he’s pleased about that.

About her. Being her, in this moment.

“That sounds suspiciously like a plan.”

“Don’t say that. Those always fall apart in the first five minutes, or the eleventh hour.”

She doesn’t want this to fall apart. And then his lips are brushing over her forehead, warm and a promise of something more to come at the same time.

“That’s all right. We’re both fairly good at winging it.”

Neither of them sleep on the floor that night.


End file.
